


Cowboys and Indians

by AgtSpooky



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Fantasy Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-07-12
Updated: 1997-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgtSpooky/pseuds/AgtSpooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Blair's away, Jim dreams of the Old West.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowboys and Indians

This story is in response to Ann's wonderful Fantasy Challenge.

Thanks for posing that challenge, Ann, because it inspired me to write my very first Sentinel story. It went a bit longer than I thought it would, but I was having fun. ;-)

The characters of Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg are copyright of Pet Fly Productions and UPN. No infringement intended on my part.... just doing some wishful thinking. :-)

__________________________________

 

Detective James Ellison opened the door to his loft with an exhausted sigh. Another late night stakeout over. Another day without Blair over. He'd been pulling all kinds of crazy shifts and assignments lately to keep busy, to keep from thinking about his Guide.

He tossed his keys in the basket beside the door with one hand and turned on the lights with the other. Silence and a pristine loft greeted him. He closed the door and leaned back against it. This same sight had been greeting him for the past two weeks and he was damn tired of it. He never realized just how much noise and energy the kid created until it wasn't there anymore.

He gave himself a mental shake. (Snap out of it, Ellison. You knew his wanderlust would kick in eventually.)

"Two more days. Only two more days," he muttered to himself. "You can make it."

Yes, indeed. Only two more days until Sentinel and Guide would be reunited. Two more days until he was back in his lover's arms. Jim still remembered the excitement in Blair's voice when he told him about the trip.

"Oh, man! The university wants *me* to head up the expedition! This is *so* cool." Blair was practically bouncing with anticipation.

And even though Jim was thrilled that his partner had been chosen, all he could think about was being away from him for over two weeks. It had only been a month since they finally acknowledged their feelings for each other and now Blair was separating them. And Jim feared that once his young Guide got a taste of what his life used to be like -- carefree, wandering from place to place -- he wouldn't want to give it up again.

Blair must have sensed his fear, for he wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and put his head on his chest.

"I'm coming back, big guy," he whispered. "I love you and I'll never leave you. This is just so important to me." He picked his head up to gaze into the blue eyes of his lover. "Can you understand that?"

Jim sighed and wrapped his arms around Blair, kissing the top of his head. "Yes, Chief, I can," he replied softly. And he truly meant it.

They made love into the night, reaffirming their devotion to each other and then Blair left the next evening.

So here he was, two weeks later, lost without his Guide.

He made his way to the refrigerator, staring listlessly at the food inside before giving up and going back out to the living room. It was almost 1am, he should be heading to bed. But a look up the stairs and he changed his mind. The big bed was empty without Blair in it. Instead, he headed into the bathroom for a quick shower to wash away the grime of the day.

Emerging a while later clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist, the open door to Blair's old room caught his attention and he strode over to it. They were eventually going to turn it into a study, but they hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Blair's school materials were strewn on the bed and a shirt lay draped across the dresser. Jim walked over to the bed and picked up a pillow, bringing it up to his face. Blair hadn't slept on the pillow for weeks, but the Sentinel's heightened senses could easily detect the young man's scent on it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A few moments later he pulled the pillow away with a smile. Only two more days. He could do it.

He carried the pillow with him back out to the living room where he lay down on the couch with it. Grabbing the remote, he flipped channels aimlessly before coming across a movie he both recognized and loved, "Fort Apache" with John Wayne.

(Now *there's* an American hero) he thought to himself with a smile. He'd seen all the Duke's movies growing up, but the ones that stuck with him were the Westerns.

An hour later, the Sentinel lay fast asleep in front of the TV, clutching Blair's pillow to his chest, dreaming about cowboys and Indians...  


* * *

Arizona  
September  
1865

United States Marshal James Ellison was uneasy as he rode across the Arizona landscape. His quarry thought to elude him by riding into Apache territory. Afterall, the man had nothing to lose. If Jim caught him he faced the hangman's noose. Michael Lasher's list of crimes was many, the most serious being the murder of another Marshal just one week ago. He'd rather take his chances with the Indians, thinking Marshal Ellison would give up the chase, not wanting to put his own life in jeopardy.

Lasher thought wrong.

For the marshal that he had killed had been Jim's friend. Nothing, not even the Apache, would stop him from hunting Lasher down. And if anyone could capture him, it was James Ellison. For Jim was the most renowned tracker in the Marshal Service. It was uncanny, his ability to seemingly see, smell and hear things others could not.

For Jim, his "ability" was both a blessing and a curse. He couldn't explain the things he did, just knew that it gave him the advantage he needed to capture the men he hunted. But he couldn't control it, his senses sometimes taking on a life of their own if he pushed too hard. It scared him when this happened, not knowing if he could get himself back to normal, so he used his ability sparingly.

But not now, not today. Lasher was close, he could feel it. But there was something else, too...another presence? He opened his senses wider, searching, the uneasy feeling growing. Was it Apache?

His mount snuffled beneath him, drawing his attention from his search. The big Appaloosa knew something was wrong, too. Jim reached down to pat the animal's neck.

"Easy, Chief," he spoke quietly to his mount, calming him. He and Chief had been together for two years now; they knew each other well, and he was a dependable animal.

The brown-and-white spotted Chief snorted once more, tossing his dark mane, then quieted. Jim urged the animal forward at a trot, heading for a fairly large grove of trees just up ahead, where he had picked up on something.

Dusk had fallen quite some time ago, but the moon shone brightly overhead. The cool September wind caressed Jim's face as he rode; he settled his black Stetson more firmly on his head, his black duster open and flapping out to the sides, his sidearm and badge glinting in the moonlight.

He rode up to the tree line, closing his eyes and opening up his hearing. He could hear the night animal sounds, the babbling of a nearby stream and...a heartbeat. It was fast, loud in his ears.

Lasher. He was sure of it.

Concentrating harder, knowing he was pushing himself, he opened his eyes, trying to piggyback his hearing and sight. It seemed to be working, he was zeroing in on Lasher's location in the trees.

The scream of the night owl shattered his concentration, the sound amplified many times, causing Jim to flinch, hands coming up to cover his ears.

"Dammit," he cursed, shaking his head.

He dismounted, ears still ringing. He led Chief over to a low branch and tied him to it before creeping silently into the trees, weapon drawn. He swept the ground with his eyes, looking for hoofprints, bootprints in the dirt. There! Fresh hoofprints to the left of him, going deeper into the trees. Letting his gaze travel upwards, he spotted the trampled underbrush and broken branches.

Heart beating rapidly in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he began to hunt his quarry once more. Clouds had moved in, obliterating the moon and the wind had picked up. Moving carefully through the trees, he tried opening up his hearing once more, the ringing sensation nearly gone now.

This time the heartbeat was easy to spot, along with a horse's snuffling. He was much closer. With the moonlight gone, Lasher didn't dare risk a headlong flight through the trees.

Then, just as the moon peaked through the clouds, just as Jim spotted Lasher, his concentration was broken again. This time with almost deadly consequences.

He detected a *second* heartbeat off to his right, between he and Lasher. Startled, he stepped backwards, fearing an ambush of some kind. His right foot came down hard on a bone-dry branch, snapping it in two. The sound was incredibly loud in the stillness of the night, and all hell broke loose.

Lasher's horse spooked, throwing him from the saddle. Jim was instantly on the run, heading for the fallen man, forgetting about the second heartbeat, until movement in the brush caught his eye. Jim turned toward the sound, hesitated a moment too long, processing a possible second threat.

He heard the gunshot from off to his left a mere moment before he felt the searing pain. He crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from the head wound. Dazed, he rolled to his side, trying to stand up again. He was too slow, and Lasher was upon him, kicking him back to the ground. The man's evil laugh reverberated throughout the trees.

"Good try, *Marshal*," Michael Lasher sneered. "I must say, it's been an interesting hunt. But as you can see, *I'm* the better hunter." He pointed his weapon at the fallen lawman. "I wonder if killing a second Marshal will feel as good as the first," he contemplated sickly.

Jim could only lie helplessly on the ground, his rage trying to push through the pain and spur him into action. He still held his weapon, but there was no way he could bring it to bear before Lasher fired.

A sudden thrashing in the brush caught both men's attention, and Lasher turned instinctively, weapon still raised. All Jim caught was a flash of war-paint before taking advantage of his unexpected opportunity.

He squinted through the blood flowing freely over his left eye, jerked his arm up and fired. Lasher never made a sound as the bullet tore through his heart, falling silently to the earth.

"Bastard," Jim whispered, closing his eyes and giving in to the pain and darkness.  


* * *

Dawn was almost breaking when the Marshal battled his way back to consciousness, a cool touch on his forehead bringing him around. He awoke to a multitude of sensations, the foremost being an intense, pounding ache on the left side of his head. He moaned softly, prying his eyes open slowly. The cool touch receded, replaced by a gentle voice.

"Welcome back, Marshal."

Jim blinked several times, trying to get his surroundings into focus. He knew he was laying on something soft, like fur, and that he was warm from a nearby campfire. As his vision cleared, he got his first look at the person who belonged to the voice.

A young man, probably in his late twenties, with startlingly blue eyes, deeply tanned skin and dark, curly hair that fell to just past his shoulders, sat on crossed legs next to Jim's. But it was his attire that caught Jim's attention. He was dressed in Apache garb, complete with two white feathers in his hair and war-paint on body and face.

If it hadn't of been for the raging pain in his head, Jim would have realized that this was no full-blooded Apache. But he was disorientated and not thinking too clearly at the moment. He jerked back instinctively, hand reaching for his holster. The movement was too quick, however, and he collapsed back onto the buffalo fur, hand clutching his head.

The young man was immediately at his side, prying his fingers away from the bandage that covered his wound. The head wound was not serious, just painful and bloody. The lawman was lucky the bullet only creased him.

"Marshal, please. You need to relax. You'll start it bleeding again."

Jim calmed after a moment, letting his hand fall to his side. The young man moved away, returning with his water pouch. He placed one hand under Jim's neck and head, supporting it, urging the older man to drink. He did so, the cool liquid easing his parched throat, allowing him to speak.

"Who...who are you?"

The young man smiled, his teeth dazzlingly white, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Blair Running Stream."

Jim was puzzled. "Running Stream? But you're not Apache. Why are you dressed that way? You could get yourself shot."

Blair's eyes clouded over and his smile faded.

"I was born in Texas. Never knew my father. When I was five, my mom, Naomi, moved us here to Arizona. We had a pretty good life, I guess. Then, one day when I was ten, three men, *white men*, rode up to the house. I wasn't in the house with Mom, I was in the shed out back. They--" he swallowed thickly, the pain evident. "They killed my mom, took whatever they could carry and burned down our house. I was terrified, didn't know what to do. The smoke must have caught the Apache's attention, for they showed up soon afterwards. One of the braves found me in the shed. He stared at me with the most curious expression, then suddenly lifted me up and put me on his horse with him. They took me back to their camp and I've lived with them ever since."

Jim was slowly shaking his head. "That's amazing."

Blair shrugged. "It's been interesting, that's for sure. To this day I don't know why that brave didn't kill me. Lily Running Stream 'adopted' me, as she could not have children. She's an amazing woman. Most of the tribe knew some English already, so I became their teacher, so to speak. I taught them English and they taught me Apache. It's been an incredible experience for me."

"I'll be it has," Jim replied, still amazed at Blair's life. "You've lived with them for over half your life, learned from them, ingrained yourself into their culture...Apache aren't known for their compassion toward the white man." He paused. "Why did you save my life?"

"You saved mine as well," Blair replied, temporarily avoiding the question. Just how would the big man react if he told him it was partly because he was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen? "He would've shot me if it hadn't of been for you."

Jim just looked at him, waiting for an answer to the question.

"I may live with the Apache, Marshal--"

"The name's Jim."

Blair nodded. "I may live with the Apache, Jim, but I'm no killer. I've never been invited to go with the raiding parties. I've never *wanted* to." He got up and began to pace around the small campsite. "I hate the death, the killing. They must have sensed that in me. I work with the medicine man. *Healing*. *Prolonging* life. Not taking it."

Jim only half-heard Blair once he began stood up and began pacing around. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at the young man's body. It took his breath away. And that thought scared the shit out of him. But he couldn't look away, mesmerized by the young man's beauty.

The combination of the breaking dawn and the firelight bathed Blair in a soft glow. The only clothing he wore were soft buckskin boots, coming nearly to his knees, decorated with simple beads, and a loin cloth of some sort, wrapped around his waist. His tanned chest was painted in an intricate pattern of red, white and black streaks. His boyish face was also adorned with paint, a simple red and black stripe on each cheek. His mahogany hair cascaded to his shoulders in a riot of soft curls, the leather headband sporting two feathers attached to two leather tassels. He moved with a fluid grace, the likes of which Jim had never seen in a man.

With a start, he realized that Blair had finished speaking and was now staring at him.

"Jim? Are you alright?" Blair asked, the concern evident in his voice.

"Umm, yeah," he replied distractedly, averting his gaze.

"Are you hungry? I was making breakfast when you woke up."

Jim suddenly realized just how ravenous he was. "Actually, I'm starving," he answered with a smile.

Blair smiled back then turned to the campfire. Jim took the opportunity to carefully sit up and glance around the camp. He was lying in Blair's lean-to on top of many soft buffalo furs. To his left he spotted Blair's black horse, tied to a tree, and next to him was his own mount, Chief. Jim smiled. The kid had thought of everything. The campfire and cooking area was to his right, and he could hear the gentle rushing of a stream behind him.

Blair appeared next to him, holding out a plate and tin cup. He didn't need heightened senses to smell the bacon, eggs and coffee. As Blair handed him the offered food, their hands brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through both men. They stared at each other for a moment, expressions unreadable, until Jim's stomach growled, breaking the spell. Blair let out a little laugh then went to fetch his own breakfast. Jim complemented him on his cooking skills, and the two men ate in companionable silence till Blair piped up with a question.

"The man you killed. How did you know where he was hiding? I mean, it's pitch black out and you were in all these trees, yet you went straight for him without hesitation."

Jim glanced at him. "How long were you watching me?" he asked sharply.

Blair shrugged. "I'd already set up camp for the night when I heard hoofbeats. I couldn't imagine who would be this deep in Apache territory except one of my tribe, so I started toward the sound. But instead, I saw that man tearing through the trees, like he was being chased. But I could see no one following him. He stopped his horse between the trees and just sat there. Like he was waiting for something or someone. I was curious, so I waited, too. It got darker and darker and he still sat there. Then you appeared. The moon was still out and I saw the reflection off your badge. I put two and two together and wanted to see what would happen. I watched, amazed, as you went straight for him. Then you stopped suddenly and glanced right toward me, like you knew *I* was there, too. I didn't think you saw me, but when you suddenly stepped backwards, I figured you had." He paused to look straight at Jim. "When I saw him ready to kill you, I knew I had to do something. I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't even have a weapon! I just stood up, hoping to distract him."

Jim's eyes locked with Blair's. "Thank you for saving my life. You didn't have to interfere."

"I don't know what the man did, but if a Marshal was after him..." he trailed off, then took a breath. "I just couldn't stand there and watch you die," he said quietly.

Something passed between the two men at that moment. Something neither could define, they just knew they had just been bound to each other by forces they did not yet understand.

Jim felt himself drowning in Blair's eyes, rapidly heading for another of his "episodes", yet unable to look away. Blair finally blinked, breaking the spell.

Jim jerked, feeling a fresh wave of pain assault his head. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan, hand coming up to rest lightly against the bandage. Blair moved to kneel next to him.

"Here, let me look at that. I need to change the bandage."

Blair carefully unwrapped the cloth, exposing Jim's wound. The gash the bullet left ran from just before his left temple to his ear. The bleeding had stopped, but the area was raw and tender. And would become infected if not cared for properly. Reaching into his saddle bag, Blair removed a clean strip of cloth and a small clay pot with a lid. He took off the lid and dipped two fingers inside. They came out lightly coated with a clear substance.

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"Salve," replied Blair, smoothing the substance gently over the gash. "It's to prevent infection." That done, he began to re-dress Jim's wound. "You know," he said, "You never told me how you knew exactly where we were in the trees."

Jim hesitated. He'd never told anyone the specifics of his ability. He let everyone guess as to how he was able to track fugitives so well. But suddenly, instinctively, he knew he could trust Blair. He *wanted* to tell him.

He cleared his throat. "I can...sense...things other's can't."

Blair's hands stilled. (No, he couldn't be...) He quickly finished tying the knot on the bandage. "What do you mean... *sense*?" he asked carefully.

"I can see, hear and smell things from far away, or even in virtual darkness."

"What about taste and touch?"

"I never really worked at those, didn't feel the need to, but I know I have the capability."

Blair stared at him with a look of awe. (It's true!) "A Sentinel..." he breathed. "But where's your Guide?"

"Sentinel? Guide?" Jim was thoroughly confused.

"You don't know what you are, do you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This is *amazing*," Blair began. "From my time spent with the Apache, I learned all about their legends, customs, way of life, what have you, along with whatever they knew about the surrounding tribes. I was fascinated by lives so different from my own. One thing that all the tribes had in common was a Sentinel. This man was revered above all others. Through some sort of genetic anomaly, all five of his senses were heightened dramatically. My own tribe has one. He's in charge of protecting the tribe from raiding parties, finding buffalo or other game...well, you know what you're capable of. But the Sentinel always has a Guide, someone to watch out for him, because he can become oblivious to everything around him while using his senses. It can be dangerous, so the Guide is there to keep him grounded, so to speak."

Jim slowly nodded his head, trying to process everything Blair was telling him. "This is what I am? A Sentinel?"

"It certainly sounds like it. But I've never heard of a white man being one. This is incredible!" Blair suddenly stood and began gathering up the breakfast dishes. "Let me clean these up and we can talk some more about this." He pointed behind the lean-to. "The stream's right back there if you'd like to get cleaned up."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jim said, pushing himself up. "I--" Then the wave of dizziness hit. His face went white and he swayed on his feet.

Blair dropped the plates and cups, wrapping his arms around the Marshal's waist, catching him before he fell. "Woah! Take it slow, big guy. You've been laying down for quite a while."

Jim swallowed, one arm coming to rest across Blair's shoulders. He took a deep breath, his color returning. He looked down at the young man, intending to say "Thank you" when he suddenly became aware of the close proximity of their bodies.

He could feel the warmth of Blair's flesh beneath his palm, the silkiness of his hair draped across his arm, and, opening his hearing, the young man's heartbeat. It was a bit fast, excited. Seemingly of it's own will, Jim's hand ran slowly down Blair's back, coming to rest at his waist. He watched as Blair's eyes slid closed and a small shiver run through his body.

Jim suddenly stepped out of Blair's arms as if he'd been burned. Blair's eyes flew open. "Jim?"

"I...I'm sorry," he stammered, moving backwards. "I'm going to wash up." And with that he was gone, striding through the trees, leaving a confused man watching him go.  


* * *

(Oh my God, what's wrong with me?) Jim asked himself as he crouched before the running water. (I feel such an attraction to him. It's so strong and I can't explain it. But he's a *man*!)

Frustrated, he stood up, unbuttoned his grey cotton shirt and tossed it down on the rocks. He scooped up the clear, cold water in his cupped hands and rubbed it across his face, keeping away from the bandage. The water trickled down his neck and chest, droplets catching in his soft chest hairs. He ran his hands over his face and neck, washing away dirt and whatever blood Blair didn't get. Lost in thought, he never heard Blair's silent approach.

Blair crouched behind a large boulder, secretly observing the Sentinel, his thoughts in just as much turmoil. From the moment he saw the big man walk into the trees last night, he was physically attracted to him. And it scared him to death. His body was responding the way it would to a beautiful woman, and he didn't understand it. But he didn't fight it, either. He felt strangely connected to this man, like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was exhilarating, exciting. And when their hands brushed together this morning...it felt like a bolt of lightening had hit him. Jim had felt it, too, he was sure of it. And what was with that caress down his back a bit ago? Blair shivered just thinking about it. He remembered the feel of his arms around Jim's waist, his body pressed up against the lawman's... Blair shook his head. He didn't care if Jim was a man. Everything felt so *right* that he wasn't going to question it, just go with his feelings. And he was going to help Jim stop fighting his feelings, too.

He watched Jim a moment longer, naked to his waist, as he washed. He watched the large hands rub cool water over his chest, arms, stomach, face...all the while wishing it was *his* hands running over the Sentinel's body. He felt a tightening in his groin and his heartbeat sped up. He'd best leave before Jim caught him.  


* * *

Blair had the breakfast dishes washed and put away when Jim returned and was sitting under the lean-to. He had removed his headband and boots and sat cross-legged on the furs, whittling at a piece of wood. He put the knife and wood down as Jim approached then sat across from him.

"You know, I was thinking," Jim began. "What are you doing out here all by yourself, anyway? Apache don't usually travel alone."

Blair glanced down at the ground. "The medicine man sent me out here. He sensed in me a growing restlessness that I had to admit to. While I'm eternally grateful to the tribe for all they've done for me, lately I've been feeling the need to move on, like there's something else I'm meant to do. So he told me to get on my horse and ride till I knew when to stop. And I ended up here. I just suddenly knew this was the right spot. Then he told me to commune with the spirits, to receive an answer to my question. He told me to come back when I had it."

"And do you have it?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair looked deeply into blue eyes so much like his own. "I think I might."

Jim drew in a shaky breath. "And what would the answer be?"

"That you and I were meant to find each other, to be together."

"Blair, I--"

Blair interrupted him. "It can't be coincidence that I picked this exact spot to camp, that I would save your life and then find out that you're a Sentinel when I know so much about them." He shook his head, his voice going soft, deep. "Call it fate, destiny, whatever. Just don't fight it. I know you feel it, too."

Jim slowly nodded his head. "I...I do. But I don't understand it, and it scares me," he admitted.

"It scares me, too, but I can't deny what I'm feeling any longer," he whispered. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jim's.

Jim's entire body came alive at that first contact and all his doubts were swept away. This was where he belonged. With Blair.

The kiss was hesitant at first, exploratory, until Jim slanted his mouth across Blair's, sweeping his tongue across his lower lip, demanding entrance. Blair eagerly complied and their tongues did heated battle. Jim leaned forward, pushing Blair back onto the furs, covering his body with his own. Blair moaned into the kiss, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Jim. Jim opened up his senses and was nearly overloaded. The taste of Blair, the heat of his body beneath him, the sound of his racing heartbeat, the feel of his flesh warm beneath his palm...

Jim abruptly broke the kiss, looking down at Blair's confused, passion-flushed face.

"I want you to be my Guide," the Sentinel whispered.

"What?"

"You said it yourself, Blair. It's no coincidence that brought us here. You said you felt there was something else you were meant to do. Maybe this is it. You said every Sentinel has a Guide. Stay with me, Blair. Be my Guide. Teach me about this gift I have."

Blair smiled and nodded his head. "I'll never leave your side, Sentinel," he said solemnly. "And this?" he asked, meaning the two of them.

"We'll teach each other," Jim replied, before claiming his mouth for another kiss.

It was only a matter of moments before both felt the overwhelming need to feel the other's naked skin. Blair's loincloth was gone in a flash, and Jim's shirt, holster, boots, socks and pants quickly followed suit, flung carelessly outside the lean-to.

Once bare to each other, they simply stared, kneeling, facing each other. Blair had more to look at, since Jim had been wearing more clothes. The man was truly magnificent. His broad chest was muscular and firm, sprinkled with dark hair, his hips were slender, in perfect proportion with his body, and his manhood...now *there* was something to look at.

Jim was beginning to feel embarrassed at Blair's frank appraisal of his body. Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around Blair's back and waist, bringing their lips and erections into contact with each other. In response, Blair moaned into the kiss and thrust his hips once, twice, into Jim's, delighting in the hiss of pleasure that broke from the other man's lips. Jim released Blair's waist to capture his face between his hands. He ran his fingers over the smooth planes of the young man's face and Blair sighed, leaning into Jim's touch, eliciting a smile from the Sentinel. Jim let his hands wander, drawing a finger across Blair's lips while the other hand ran through his silky curls. Moving lower, he let both hands slide down Blair's chest, brushing his thumbs across the flat nipples. Blair jerked, pressing his lower body against Jim's once more.

Then Jim suddenly found himself flat on his back, his young Guide straddling his legs, their balls touching.

"My turn," Blair breathed.

Blair bent forward at the waist, bracing his hands on either side of Jim's chest, bringing their cocks into direct contact. Both men moaned softly at the sweet sensation, cocks swelling instantly. Bending over further, resting on his forearms, Blair pressed his hips downward, feeling an answering upward thrust from Jim. Blair continued slowly rocking, sliding his now throbbing erection against Jim's own. Jim's hands rose up to grasp Blair's buttocks, pressing their bodies more firmly together.

"Ahhh...yeah..." panted Blair, before flicking his tongue across Jim's flat nipple.

Jim's hips flew upwards so fast and hard, he nearly bucked Blair off. "God! Please, don't stop," he pleaded.

Blair wouldn't have dreamed of it. He lavished one nipple with his tongue, coaxing it into a tight, hard peak before gently biting. Jim threw his head back into the furs with a wordless cry, a death grip on Blair's ass, trying to get him to go faster. But Blair was setting the pace. He continued with his slow, sensuous rocking as he kissed his way across Jim's chest to his other nipple. This one received the same treatment as it's twin; Jim making little whimpering noises as Blair suckled on one and rubbed his thumb across the other. Jim's hips were frantically trying to increase the friction and Blair finally took pity on him, straightening out his legs and sliding his body down the older man's. Jim moaned in protest when their erections lost contact, but changed his tune as Blair licked and kissed his way down his chest and abdomen. Blair paused to spread Jim's legs far apart then kneeled between them.

He let one finger start at Jim's collarbone and traced a lazy path all the way down to his groin, where his cock was fairly standing at attention. He let the finger trail over the tip, drawing the moisture he found there down the shaft. Jim arched his head back, hands clutching the furs.

"Yesss..." he hissed.

Taking Jim fully in his hand, he pumped him quickly, twice. Jim gave a strangled yell and arched his hips off the furs. Sensing his Sentinel wouldn't last much longer, Blair quickly took him in his mouth, sucking and stroking.

Jim thought he was going to fly apart. He didn't want the feeling to end, trying to hold himself back, but slowly losing the battle. And when he looked down, saw his legs spread wide with his cock sliding in and out of his Guide's mouth, it was just too much. He came with a scream...  


* * *

"BLAIR!"

The force of his orgasm brought Jim to wakefulness, his hand still encircling his softening penis. Sometime during his fantasy, his towel had come undone, and he could feel the warm stickiness of his seed across his stomach and hand. Eyes still closed, he sighed.

"That was beautiful, lover."

The soft voice startled Jim so bad he nearly fell off the couch. His eyes flew open to reveal his Guide kneeling on the floor next to him, a smile upon his face.

"Blair! Baby, what are you doing home so soon?"

"It's been raining so bad down there we finally had to call the expedition quits. I was going to call and let you know I was coming home early, but I decided to surprise you." He laughed. "Little did I know *I* would get the surprise when I walked in the door." He leaned over and kissed Jim deeply.

When they broke apart long minutes later, Jim whispered, "I missed you, Chief."

Blair smiled and looked down at Jim's stomach. "I could tell, big guy. Just *what* were you dreaming about, hmm?" he teased.

Jim's face reddened and he pulled his towel back around himself. "Why don't you go upstairs and get into bed and I'll tell you all about it."

Jim had never seen the kid move so fast. He was up the stairs in a flash, tearing off his clothing as he went. A moment later he heard the bedsprings squeak. Jim laughed, then used the bathroom to clean himself up before joining Blair upstairs in bed.

It was a long time before Jim was able to tell Blair about his fantasy, too busy welcoming his Guide back home in every way he could think of. When he did finish, Blair just murmured, "Cowboys and Indians..."

"That's it? That's all you've got to say?" That was not quite the reaction Jim was hoping for.

Blair shook his head, a glint in his eye. Then he was on top of the Sentinel, his growing erection pressing into his stomach.

"Ride 'em, cowboy!" he growled.  


**THE END**

* * *

Email the author with comments. Agtspooky@aol.com


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